Most week nights Hubby and I retreat to the living room after dinner to enjoy some quality time together watching TV.

Now the eternal question… who chooses what to watch? Who claims the remote of power? According to Hubby, the Twins baseball season demands attention. As does UFC, WWF, NFL and the duck boys on Duck Dynasty. Some nights they all demand attention at the same time.

That’s Hubby’s perspective–not mine.

Those nights when there are so many options for Hubby, we are lucky if the channel stays put for at least 30 seconds at a time.

This time of year is also when many TV series start to kick off new seasons.

So, we battle.

Recent night when the Twins played:

“We don’t have to watch baseball tonight, honey,” Hubby said as he changes the channel to the Twins with a smirk.

I simply gave him the “look” to let him know I didn’t appreciate his humor and the channel went back to what we were previously watching.

To save our marriage we have both made compromises with regard to the remote.

He’s not allowed to watch sports when WE are spending “quality time” together. If he wants to forfeit his quality time he has to retreat to a room with a different TV.

The same rule applies for me. If I want to watch “Dance Moms,” “Toddlers and Tiaras” or any other “girly” reality show, I must also forfeit the quality time.

The rules for the living room TV remote are simple: We watch shows we can both agree upon and Hubby can have full control of the remote.

The story changes, however, in the bedroom. That’s where I take control–of the remote, I mean.

Most week nights Hubby and I retreat to the bedroom around 9 p.m. I watch an hour of television before falling asleep, whereas Hubby can barely kiss me goodnight before he’s sawing logs.

Once in a great while, and I do mean a long time, I will be tired enough to beat Hubby to bed. Even then the rule of the remote in the bedroom applies.

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Once he stole the remote from my clutches while I was sleeping only to be awoken in the middle of the night by me stripping the bed and throwing pillows against the wall in an attempt to find the missing remote. Which, I might add, was later found on the kitchen counter.

I call that irresponsible remote ownership and his control was revoked.

Last night he rolled over to kiss me good night and rolled on the remote and shut the TV off. After a moment of stunned silence from both of us the TV clicked back on. Once the room was bright again I went about finding a better place for the remote.

“Wish I got as much attention as that remote does,” Hubby grumbled.

“If you acted more like the remote you would get more attention. Until then, sue me.”